Now there’s six minutes and twenty-five seconds left in Q3. Anxiety fills me as the clock continues to go down. It’s going to be an all-or-nothing lap to win pole position. I’m about to say something to Catherine when I see her gaze is fixated on a monitor. She’s watching Mason in his car, his visor up, hisespresso-colored eyes looking just as focused as Caleb’s were earlier.
The clock continues to tick. My anxiety grows with each second that is running down.
At four minutes, the tire blankets are taken off. Anticipation is thick in the air.
Caleb is about to go.
The powerful engine of his car roars as he’s guided out of the garage, and he joins all the other cars headed for one last lap to get pole position.
Caleb enters the track. I keep watching time run down on the screen. This is it. Everything comes down to these last two minutes.
Other drivers begin their attack on the clock. I continue to fight my nerves as I wait for Caleb to take his shot.
There’s fifty seconds left on the clock.
Xavier begins his final lap. Then Mason.
With forty-four seconds on the clock, Caleb begins his final lap.
All three of them are fast. Xavier and Mason are near the times they had on the last run.
When Caleb’s time is flashed up for the first sector, I suck in a breath. He’s faster than both of them.
By .072 seconds.
Normally, as a race fan, this is everything you want in qualifying. A close, dramatic, nail-biting finish to the end.
But now that I know Caleb? This is one of the most stressful things I’ve ever encountered.
The clock now shows zero. There are no more chances to be had. This is the last lap for qualifying.
The remaining cars continue to race each other and the clock.
Xavier crosses the line at 1:14:844. Mason finishes second at 1:15.002.
Come on,I will Caleb.You can do this. You can beat Xavier’s time.
His time is flashed up on the screen. Caleb is faster in the second sector, by mere fractions of a second.
He has a shot at it!
It all comes down to the third sector. Caleb makes his final push toward the finish line. The time is running, running, running. My heart is racing, and my nerves are on edge.
He flies across the line. His time is 1:14:796.
Oh my God.
Caleb has beaten Xavier.
And he is on the pole for the Emilia-Romagna Grand Prix tomorrow.
Chapter Fourteen
“Isla, this was a challenging assignment, and you did a bloody good job with it,” Thomas, my producer, says in my ear. “Well done.”
I smile as I leave the grid. All twenty-two cars are lined up to run the race, and I’ve just finished doing the F2 grid walk for the network. “Thank you, Thomas. I’m just thrilled I had the opportunity.”
But Thomas isn’t lying. The assignment was WAY harder than I thought it would be.